13 Things Your Consulting Detective Won't Tell You
by JellyBean30
Summary: Inspired by recent articles in Reader's Digest, this is two ficlets- 13 things Sherlock won't tell anyone, and 13 things he won't tell John. Pre-slashy, a bit.


**13 Things Your Consulting Detective Won't Tell You**

Cases involving small children being hurt bother me far more than you realize. Allowing myself to become emotional will not help them, and so I do not allow it. After the close of the case, successful or not, I am likely not to speak for days.

I do not know who the Prime Minister is because, unlike the rest of the Commonwealth, I know who is actually in charge of our government, and he and I are far more intimately acquainted than I care to admit.

While I do not experience sexual pleasure upon viewing corpses or the victims of violence, you are not incorrect in your assessment that a challenging mystery stimulates me mentally in a way not dissimilar to the endorphin rush one experiences due to orgasm.

I am quite fond of dogs.

I do not abstain from watching television because I find it beneath me (although it is), but because my mind has an alarming habit of fixating on things without my express permission, and I haven't the time to become a Whovian.

I am not a psychopath, nor am I a sociopath. People believe that I am because that is what I want them to believe. I have spent years training myself not to allow anyone to make me feel inferior. I have done that before, and found the results less than satisfactory. However, I do have feelings, and they can be hurt.

I do not believe in God, because I refuse to accept that an all powerful being who loves humanity could allow such suffering when He could prevent it. From my perspective and experience, believing in God is tantamount to believing He is cruel and heartless. There is enough cruelty in the world; I cannot abide it in a higher power.

What you perceive as anger on my part during an investigation is actually frustration. This is partly due to the fact that I know you are not stupid, yet you cannot see what I see and partly due to the fact that every time this happens, I am reminded yet again that I am alone, and no one else will ever truly understand me.

I was not having sexual intercourse with James Moriarty or with Irene Adler. I did not fantasize about having intercourse with James Moriarty or with Irene Adler. Despite what you think, I was not in love with James Moriarty or Irene Adler. I was fascinated by them, because for a brief period of time, there was a person on Earth who understood me, how I thought and how that shapes who I am. The fact that they turned to a life of crime and the infliction of pain and misery on others saddens me. We could have been tremendous allies, and I imagine they felt much the same way about me.

I am not half as blind to the rules of the social contract as I would have you believe. It suits my purposes to have people think that I do not understand their constant innuendo and social bonding events. Your sarcasm is not lost on me, I simply find it less time consuming and irritating to pretend I do not understand.

I am more than capable of making tea.

My childhood was not a happy one, but neither was it a tragic one. I experienced the same trials as millions of other children. However, the development of my intelligence far out-stripped my emotional maturity, which left me with the ability to understand things from the perspective of an adult without the ability to cope with the emotional impact of those situations.

On those days when the world is black, and speaking requires more effort than I can manage, a kind word goes a long way. I may not be able to acknowledge it then, and I will never thank you for it once I am myself again, but your effort is noted and appreciated.

**13 Things Your Consulting Detective Won't Tell You, John Watson**

Thank you, John, for so many things, but first and foremost, for believing in me despite all evidence to the contrary.

I don't think you're an idiot, no matter how many times I tell you otherwise. I do have some idea how much work and intelligence it requires to finish medical school and become a doctor.

I know you wish I took better care of myself because you care about my well-being. I don't dismiss you because I don't care. When you concern yourself with how I'm feeling, you bring back painful memories about my mother that I'd just as soon not recall. Incidentally, this is much the same reason I shout at Mrs. Hudson on occasion.

It's not that I detest your sister, John, or wish her ill. But I have been where she is, and I know what it takes to overcome an addiction. She hasn't got it, John. Not right now, at least, and I hate to think of your hope for her recovery to be crushed repeatedly.

Nor is it that I dislike your girlfriends. It's that I question whether you're entirely certain what you're looking for in a partner beyond a willingness to say yes when you ask for a date. None of the women you've dated since I've known you seem particularly well suited to you.

Yes, I sincerely deleted things like the solar system from my mind because I thought it took away from The Work. It was your astonishment that caused me to reconsider that decision and create my Mind Palace. I know you find it strange, possibly stranger than my deleting facts from my mind, but I believe you were right, John, and that this new method will help me in future cases.

I'm sorry that I hurt you with Irene and Moriarty. I was telling you the truth, it wasn't what you thought. And when I pretend that I don't understand why Irene and Moriarty made you so upset, I'm lying. (You're lying too, of course, because you haven't yet accepted why you were so upset by it.)

I'm also sorry that I hurt you with The Fall, but I am not sorry that I did it. I could think of no other way to save you, and Mrs. Hudson and Lestrade, and even if you never forgive me I would do it again today to keep you safe.

Yes, some of your jumpers are truly as hideous as I have stated. Some, however, suit you very well.

When you are having a nightmare about Afghanistan, and I can always tell because of the way you shout, which is a mix of fear and anger and disgust and a desire to make it stop that leaves you hoarse, I play the Fairy Lullaby on my violin. I overheard you singing it to Harry one night when she was having a particularly bad day, and I deduced that your mother must have sung it to you when you were children. It soothes you, even though you don't know I'm doing it.

When I am having a nightmare, John, it is almost surely about you, and Moriarty's plans to burn the heart out of me.

I'm not as asexual as I've led you to believe. Some day, I hope, you will realize you are not as heterosexual as you believe either.

I have loved you for far longer than even I can recall.


End file.
